


Disquiet

by SoloChaos



Category: Drew Carey's Improv-A-Ganza RPF, Real Person Fiction, Whose Line Is It Anyway? RPF
Genre: Alcohol, Angst, Gen, Past Rape/Non-con, Unhealthy Views About Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-29
Updated: 2017-03-29
Packaged: 2018-10-12 09:59:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10488216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoloChaos/pseuds/SoloChaos
Summary: Brad finds Jeff in his dressing room and ends up sharing more about himself than he'd intended to.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is a short, dark, weird piece. I found it in my drafts and decided that it was complete enough to post.
> 
> Warnings for a non-graphic mention of rape and some unhealthy views about sex.

Brad, who’s nicely drunk, returns to his dressing room to pack up, only to find a thoroughly distraught Jeff Davis curled up in the corner. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, taking a swig of his third (fifth? seventh?) beer. He sits down on the floor, across from Jeff.

Jeff groans, covering his face. “Ryan walked in on me and Chip.” 

“Oh.” Brad thinks about that. He’d known about Jeff, but he wouldn’t’ve guessed Chip swung that way. But hey. Sexuality’s always an elusive thing. “What were you doing?” 

Jeff is blushing furiously. Brad’s kind of surprised by his reticence: Jeff’s always stuck him as a kiss-and-tell sort of guy. He’s not sure why. It probably has something to do with Jeff’s unashamed, no reservations-type stage persona. It’s not fair to judge someone by who they are onstage, but it’s easier.

Brad suddenly realizes that he’s completely missed Jeff’s response.

“Sorry, what?” he asks.

Even Jeff’s ears are red. “I was…” he coughs, “going down on him.” 

“Oh,” Brad says with a shrug. “That’s not so bad.” 

_“‘That’s not so bad?’”_  Jeff echoes disbelievingly. “On what  _planet?_  Brad, he saw me with another man’s dick  _down my throat.”_  

Brad waves a hand. “Don’t worry about it, dude. He’s seen worse.” 

_“‘He’s seen worse?’”_  Jeff’s beginning to sound like a skeptical parrot. “What could  _possibly_  be worse?” 

Brad privately thinks Jeff’s being a bit of a drama queen. He does look genuinely distraught, though, and Brad decides he’s drunk enough to recount his own sordid stories to assuage Jeff’s distress.

“Once,” Brad says, draining his beer, “he walked in on me with three other guys.” 

Jeff stares at him.  _“You?”_  

“Yeah,” Brad says. “A long time ago. Look, if you think going down on a guy is bad, at least you didn’t have two other guys up your ass at the same time.” 

Jeff’s jaw is dropped open. Brad’s suddenly struck with the urge to say, “Close your mouth, or you’ll catch flies.” He manages to restrain himself: it’s something his mom used to say, and he’s not really in the mood to think about his mother right now.

“You’re joking,” Jeff says weakly.

“I’m not, cross my heart.” His words come out slurred, but Jeff seems willing to see the truth in them anyways.

“I always thought you were…” Jeff shrugs.

“Straight?” Brad guesses. “Maybe. Well, I think I’ve fucked too many guys to be considered exclusively straight.” 

“Oh,” Jeff says.

“Sometimes I get Sean’a to fist me,” Brad says. “Every now and then. But she’s not as good as it as Richard was. D’you remember Richard?” 

“…no,” Jeff says. 

“Yeah,” Brad says. “I guess you wouldn’t.” He yawns, turning to the side and leaning his back against the wall. “Ryan’s walked in on me a couple times, actually,” he says after a moment. “Usually just me jerking off, because, y’know. He doesn’t know how to knock. But once, uh.” Brad realizes that he’s spitting all over himself. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “Once, Colin walked in on me.” 

“Oh,” Jeff says sympathetically.

“Yeah,” Brad says. “Well, it was my fault, I guess. I was with some guy in a gay club, like, in the bathroom. Not even in one of the stalls or whatever. And he walked in.” 

“Oh,” Jeff says again. He stretches his legs out in front of him, and Brad idly watches as he wiggles his toes, jerking his feet nervously.

“Sorry,” Brad says after a long pause. At Jeff’s questioning look, he clarifies, “I’m making you uncomfortable.” 

“Oh, well,” Jeff says, “yes. But, I mean.” He scratches the back of his neck. “I don’t know.” 

“I’m drunk,” Brad says. It’s a non sequitur, but it feels relevant somehow.

“Yeah,” Jeff says. “Wait, here, I have a, a thing.” He gets up, grabbing a water bottle off the table. He gets ready to toss it to Brad, but then seems to think better of it and carefully hands it over instead.

“Thanks,” Brad says. It takes a couple of tries, but he gets the cap off and takes a sip. It’s seltzer water, he notes with some surprise. The label says, “Lemon-Lime Flavor.” It tastes like pennies.

He drains half the bottle.

“So,” Jeff says. “What was Colin doing in a gay bar?” 

“Huh? Oh. He was with Ryan, probably,” Brad says with a shrug. “You know. One of the few places where you could stick your tongue down another man’s throat and no one would care.”

“Colin and Ryan?” Jeff says. He looks blown away. “I always… I always thought that was a joke.” 

“Mm,” Brad says. “It didn’t last very long.” 

“Oh,” Jeff says.

They sit in silence for a moment.

Brad takes another drink of his lemon-lime-penny water. “Actually, I didn’t mind when Colin walked in,” he admits. Fuck, he’s drunk.

“Really?” Jeff asks, cocking his head.

“Yeah,” Brad says. “The guy I was with was a dick. Colin walking in distracted him enough to let me get away.” He shrugs. “Colin had to knee him in the balls, but I mean. I found bruises everywhere the next day, so he might’ve deserved it.” He pauses, frowns. “The guy I was with, I mean. Not Colin.”

There’s another silence, longer this time. It seems heavier, now, and Brad doesn’t know if it’s because it actually  _is_ heavier, or if it’s just because he’s sobered up a bit.

“No wonder you’re always following him around,” Jeff says quietly.

“Who?”

“Colin.” 

Brad frowns. “What do you mean?” 

Jeff shrugs. “It makes sense, you know,” he says, “if he’d saved you from being raped.” 

“I don’t follow him around,” Brad says, and then the rest of Jeff’s words register. “Wait, I. I wasn’t.”

“You weren’t what?” 

Brad can’t even say it. “That– that didn’t happen to me, asshole.” He doesn’t know why he’s becoming so defensive. He feels like a different person. He should stop drinking.

Ha.

Jeff shifts, tucking his feet under himself, like he’s getting ready to jump up. “I– I guess I can’t really say,” he says, “since I wasn’t there. But, I mean. Was it, you know. Consensual? Did you consent?” 

“I don’t know,” Brad says, because he doesn’t. He was fucked up then, and he’s fucked up now. Not the optimum state for clarity. “But that– it didn’t  _matter._  Y’know? When you sleep with enough people, like I was, it– it doesn’t matter.”

Jeff stares at him, mouth slightly ajar. “…what?” he says. “Wait, that– that’s not how it works. At– at  _all.”_  

“Fuck off,” Brad says, feeling inordinately angry all of a sudden. “You weren’t there, okay? You don’t… you weren’t there.” 

“No,” Jeff says, “but I can still–” 

_“Fuck off,”_  Brad says again, with more feeling this time. He thinks about getting up, towering over Jeff while the other man’s still sitting on the floor, but he can’t find the energy to move. He settles on saying, “Why the fuck are you still here?” 

Jeff shrugs. “Sorry,” he says quietly.

Brad sighs, feeling the anger drain away. He’s just tired, now. “Whatever.” He sets the water bottle down and flicks it. It wobbles, just once, before settling back into an upright position. 

Jeff sticks his leg out and kicks it over.

**Author's Note:**

> I might write a prequel or sequel to this, since I do have the universe set up in my head. I have a lot of other fics in the works though, so it'll probably be a while.


End file.
